“Please don’t hurt us, sir,” the older one said, stepping protectively in front of the younger. “We were just leaving.”
Edward couldn’t speak.
Up close, it wasn’t resemblance.
It was reflection.
Brown curls dulled by dirt. Pale skin under grime. And when they looked up—
Green eyes.
With flecks of gold.
Patricia’s eyes.
Peter had climbed out of the car without fear. He opened his kindergarten backpack and pulled out a small pack of chocolate cookies.
“Here,” he said simply. “My dad can buy more.”
The boys hesitated. The older one carefully broke a cookie in half, handing the bigger piece to his brother.
“Thank you,” they said together.
Their voices.
Edward felt his knees weaken. He crouched down on the asphalt, expensive suit forgotten.
“What are your names?” he asked.
“I’m Lucas,” the older boy said. “This is Matthew.”
Lucas and Matthew.
The names he and Patricia had once laughed about when imagining a big family. Before the complicated pregnancy. Before the emergency delivery that ended in Patricia’s death. Before the hospital told him only one baby survived.
Peter.
“Where are your parents?” Edward asked quietly, though dread was already coiling in his chest.